


End the Year With A Bang

by GizmoTrinket



Series: 2017 New Content Angst Before We Even Have the New Content  'verse [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Mrs. Hudson, Bisexual John Watson, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Drinking, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Gay Sherlock, Homophobia, John is a Bit Not Good, M/M, Minor Character Death, Misandry, Misogyny, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Not Canon Compliant, POV John Watson, POV Mycroft Holmes, Paternity questions, Stereotypes, Tumblr Prompt, bi phobia, john is apparently catnip, mycroft is the stupid brother, this is all a bit not good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GizmoTrinket/pseuds/GizmoTrinket
Summary: Part 3 of 4(?)Written for the Tumblr Prompts:#16 I'm not just making this major change because it's New Year's Eve; that's a total coincidence.#146 "I love you." "That's... problematic..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to post this before episode two but that didn't happen. And since I lived through episode three's angst I decided to go against all my morals and write more of this. It was supposed to be three parts but that obviously didn't happen. This minorly edited version is proof that I'm still angry.

The baptism was yesterday. Sherlock was the only good point in the entire thing. It was too bad he didn't stay but it was probably good he left when he did. Mary's ex-boyfriend showed up and apparently Sherlock had told him he was allowed three supervised visits a year. John overheard him talking to Mary about "that psychopath best man" and actively eavesdropped on the rest of the conversation.

John wasn't sure how he felt about the situation. Sherlock was possessive and jealous of the few friends he had, John more than most. It was irritating at the best of times. But, this was something different. He was pretty sure Sherlock wasn't trying to keep him away from Mary because Sherlock said that before the wedding. Wouldn't he want Mary hanging out with her friends so John would be available to spend time with him?

The part he was trying very hard not to think about (and was therefore spending most of his time pondering) was that the man was Mary's ex and that Mary had a type. John tried not to be jealous and possessive (because to be honest he was worse about it than Sherlock) but he couldn't help but think that the reason Sherlock wanted to keep Mary and the man separate was in deference to John. The man was nervous but risked "a psychopath's" wrath to see Mary on an important day.

He knew Sherlock said Rosamund had John's nose. But there was something else there too. Something he left unsaid, something he dismissed with a wave.

John loved Mary. But, he didn't trust her.

And there was something Sherlock didn't know. One of those things he missed. Obviously Sherlock had deduced that John and Mary were having unprotected sex that could result in pregnancy. There was no other reason (that John could see) for Sherlock to start spouting pregnancy statistics. John told the genius to shut up not because he didn't want anyone to overhear their conversation (well, that was part of it) but because he never expected to be a father. But, Sherlock didn't know that John was basically sterile and John wanted him quiet because the blond had just married a woman that was probably pregnant with someone else's child.

He probably could have had the marriage annulled. He probably should have demanded a paternity test.

But, what if the child was his? What sort of start to a marriage was that? "Hey, I was pretty sure I was sterile, there was a whole big drama thing that happened in Afghanistan and long story short a bunch of soldiers from my unit are. I meet those criteria and I was wondering if you'd go ahead and agree to this test because it'll be easier to annul this marriage sooner rather than later?" Yeah, right. John was sure if he went and tested his sperm count Mary would know instantly and it wouldn't be hard to figure out why John ordered the test out of the blue. Plus he wasn't even sure his case was grounds for annulment. Sherlock never doubted Rosamund's paternity and Sherlock would have considered it, right? And Sherlock couldn't keep anything to himself. So, John never looked to see if that was a law and he never confronted his wife.

The blond man watched his wife interact with the other blond man and he tried not to think.

And he thought.

\----

If a hospital needed to do genetic testing and it turned out the assumed father was not the biological father of a child they were legally required to tell the man.

John shook off the thought. It wasn't relevant. Rosie was healthy.

\----

Every time John's phone received a text he'd look immediately. And he was always disappointed it wasn't from Sherlock. John had gotten a text when Sherlock decided to leave the gathering early. John read it often. It seemed at odds with the man he thought he knew. The Sherlock John knew wouldn't have bought a baptism gift, especially sentimental jewellery. That woman Sherlock was using to get into Magnussen's office said she was the only one who knew him. John was furious, that was his line!

But, as he worried the wing charm between his fingers John wondered if she was right. Did Janine see Sherlock's softer side? The side he didn't show anyone. Didn't show John? Well, Sherlock probably tried to but John was just too blind to see it. Sherlock was so sweet to Mrs. Hudson. _"Hudders."_

The high functioning sociopath with had no emotions, who couldn't love had kissed his landlady goodbye before he left to go on a case the day John shot the cabbie.

"I don't understand." John sighed to his child.

"You should get that on a shirt." Mary quipped from behind.

John focused on breathing. That... that was... Maybe Mary just picked it up from some TV show? Maybe Magnussen did too? Maybe this was some common internet saying he never heard because he was rubbish with technology.

Doubtful.

"Isn't Rosamund beautiful?" John asked for a lack of anything else to say.

"Of course she is! She's my daughter, after all." Mary chuckled at her joke and plucked the child from her John's arms.

Rosamund wrinkled her face, not appreciating being woken.

"You should let her sleep." John admonished. "She hardly slept at all last night." He knew, he had to keep getting up.

"If I let her sleep now she won't be tired tonight." Mary countered.

John wasn't sure that was a good approach but his parents had put him and Harry to sleep with some scotch and he turned out ok. So he didn't say anything.

The family moved into the living room and John turned on the telly so he wouldn't have to talk.

 _"You should get that on a shirt." "You should get that on a shirt."_ _"You should get that on a shirt."_ Alternating between Magnussen's voice and Mary's. It was unsettling.

John had considered the words he spoke to Mary at Sherlock's parent's house carefully. "The problems of your future are my privilege." Was not, in fact, a vow of forgiveness and safety. It could be taken that way if one were inclined to believe John was a man capable of forgiveness. He was, he knew, but the forgiveness seemed to only apply to one person. Sherlock. Sherlock was the only person who betrayed John so thoroughly and though John couldn't see Sherlock the same anymore he still trusted him. He trusted Sherlock with his life.

That was probably the difference. Sherlock "killed" himself to save his friends. Sherlock doomed himself to save the people John cared about. John wasn't sure Sherlock even liked Mary, (and he was quite sure Mary didn't care for Sherlock, even though she said she did) but John was positive Sherlock would protect her life just as fiercely as John's.

No, the problems of Mary's future were, at that moment, John and Mycroft. John was tempted more often than not to text the "minor government official" and explain what he knew. A quick call to Mummy would probably do the job more effectively. Mary had enemies and John knew Mycroft could find them easily.

But Rosamund might get caught in the crossfire. And, he didn't want to take away her mother. Even if he wasn't her father. Especially if he wasn't her father.

It was a slow torment.

Roasmund's eyes were the generic blue all babies were born with. And John didn't have unique eyes like Sherlock, eyes that would be a dead giveaway of paternity.

And he didn't think Rosamund had his nose.

He didn't think she had Mary's nose either.

"The faucet is leaking again." Mary nagged.

"Ugh." John grunted. He didn't really care if the faucet leaked or if the garden was overgrown with weeds or if the lawn needed mowed. He didn't care much for owning a house. Living in a flat might be annoying what with noisy neighbours (the married ones could get quite loud when they climaxed and that was nothing compared to his and Sherlock rows and the genius's boredom) but living there was so much easier. So much closer to work. Closer to everything. He'd had to fix a leak in the roof yesterday and he didn't want to deal with any other leaks after that disaster.

But now that it was brought to his attention he could hear it over the show.

Drip, drip, drip.

A small annoyance that wouldn't go away until it was dealt with. It'd just keep dripping. Keep making noise. Keep nagging him until he dealt with it.

Much like the worry of his child's paternity.

Maybe he could talk to Sherlock about it, anything he noticed, anything he suspected away from Mary if he went on a case. Even if he chickened out and didn't say a word about Rosamund running after some criminals would be good. Refreshing. He reached for his mobile.

To: Sherlock

_Figure anything out about Moriarty?_

There was no immediate reply so John turned his attention back to the tele.

Drip, drip, drip.

John ground his teeth.

Drip, drip, drip.

Sherlock must be on a case. It never took him this long to reply.

Drip, drip, drip.

Even if Sherlock suspected anything about Rosamund's paternity it wouldn't be proof. Without proof he couldn't do anything. Wouldn't do anything.

Drip, drip, drip.

Rosamund started crying. Mary shushed her and started feeding her.

Drip, drip, drip.

He opened his mobile again.

To: Mike

_You want to grab a pint?_

Mike replied quickly.

_Please. Where should we meet?_

John frowned at the response. That wasn't right. He had expected Mike to say no or something. It was the 30th, a Friday, so he didn't have the excuse of work but Mike liked to have Friday nights to himself. John remembered from when they were seeing each other, before he stupidly called it off out of internal (and external) homophobia and later Mike met his wife.

Mike should be hanging out with his wife. Whenever John needed to go out on Friday Mike said no so John went with Lestrade instead.

He couldn't text quickly enough to ask what was wrong. Mike would talk about it after a few beers anyway. So John texted the address of a nearby pub. Mike countered with one closer to him and they met someplace in the middle.

\----

"She was killing me." Mike said.

John couldn't believe it. "But, a divorce? You've been together for ages! You couldn't work it out?"

Mike looked at him. "She kept trying to change me. Never could accept that I'd dated men. Said I needed to repent. I wasn't allowed to talk about finding other men attractive. She told me since I married her I was straight. Once she saw the divorce papers she said I was just closeted. It wasn't that we weren't right for each other, no. It was because I was a, and I'm quoting her here, "fucking faggot"."

"Jesus Christ!" John said.

Mike shrugged and went to order another round.

John knew the same thing would happen to him if he divorced Mary. It wouldn't be Mary lobbing the insult at him though. John knew Mary found women as attractive, if not more so than men. They didn't talk about it. Mary teased him about being bi sometimes. But they were both in the same boat and neither of them wanted to rock it too much.

It'd be his co-workers, some of the people at the yard and Harry. His sister didn't believe people could be interested in both sexes. Probably the press too if he started blogging again.

Mike returned with a pint apiece. "Cheers."

John raised his glass and took a drink before setting it aside. "Mike, I wanted to ask you something. I know I can trust you and this needs to stay between us."

"Of course." The other man agreed.

John thanked his lucky stars Mike never held a grudge about their breakup. Neither of them were tipsy yet but John still felt this was something he shouldn't mince words about. "I don't think Rosamund is mine."

"Oh." Mike shifted uneasily.

"Yeah." John said, seeing his friend was uncomfortable with the blond doctor's bluntness. He suddenly regretted involving the other doctor in this, but it would kill John to keep wondering. "It's eating at me, and I just have to know."

Mike nodded eyes distant as he thought. "Well, what do you want to do?"

That was the big question. John really couldn't answer without explaining everything so he unloaded all his problems on a man going through a messy divorce. It felt wonderful to get everything off his chest. He couldn't do so in therapy since he knew he would basically be talking to Mycroft. John explained his suspicions at the wedding, how he dismissed them because Sherlock didn't say anything. How Mary shot Sherlock and after calming Mike down from that surprise (and explaining that he couldn't just leave his child in the sole care of an assassin and the only way to be safe was to take her back) he explained why this needed to be handled so carefully.

"And I thought my marriage was messed up." Mike muttered when John was done.

John cringed with the reminder of how badly he was using his friend. "You don't have to do anything. I'll figure something out."

"No." Mike said after a long pull of his drink. "I can't imagine being in your situation. I'll help any way I can."

When both pints were empty a plan had been made. John was surprised at the simplicity of it all. It was his turn to buy so he went to buy the drinks. When he returned he stared at the discoloured skin on his friend's ring finger.

Mike caught him at it.

"Sorry." John winced.

"Don't be." Mike smiled. "It's actually a huge relief."

"Really?" John was incredulous.

"Yeah. I kept eating every time something was wrong and I gained all this weight. Emotionally I was so exhausted I couldn't go to the gym. Plus, you know, she'd get all worked up about me getting all sweaty with a bunch of guys." He shook his head and took a drink. "It was a bad relationship. It's hard, you know, I miss her. Especially on Fridays. But, I'm going to be happier without her. I can already tell. I've lost five pounds!" He laughed.

 _"Mary and I think seven."_ The deep baritone voice taunted in his memory. John shook himself but another memory came to him. _"You've put on three pounds."_ Molly argued two and a half. And Moriarty was a true psychopath.

"John?"

"Sorry." John said. "You do look better." John worried the compliment was too little too late but Mike didn't seem to care.

"Honestly when I took you to Sherlock I thought I'd be attending a wedding in a week, unless you eloped."

John choked. "No! No, Sherlock set me straight first opportunity."

Mike laughed at the unintentional pun. "Was it the body parts? I've always thought that was a bit odd."

"What? No!" John denied. "No, it wasn't that! Once he managed to keep the experiments away from the food it was ok. No, I..." John cleared his throat and blushed. "I kinda hit on him over diner and he explained he was asexual. So... yeah." John shrugged and felt he hadn't had enough alcohol to have this conversation.

"What?!" Mike started chuckling. "Sherlock? Asexual?" He laughed.

John frowned. "He said he appreciated my interest but he was married to his work."

"God, you're hopeless! Didn't you ever see Hitch?" Mike asked.

"Is that a movie?"

\----

To: Mary

_Mike's going through a messy divorce. Going to spend some male bonding time with him. Be home late._

Yeah, male bonding by watching a romance on DVD at his ex-boyfriend's house.

 _Rosamund sends her regards._ Mary responded.

John huffed. Mary would be very mad if he spent the night and left her to tend to the baby. And, it wasn't exactly fair to her.

_I'll be back after a bit. Just want to make sure Mike is ok._

More like he wants to make sure I'll be ok. Out of the two of them John was in far worse emotional condition.

_Tell me when you're on your way home. x_

John read the text then made sure he hadn't received anything from Sherlock.

Mike put in the DVD and laughed at John throughout the entire thing.

God, when Will Smith explained _"I'm really into my career right now"_ meant _"try harder stupid_ " John honestly thought he would die.

It was hilarious if you enjoyed other people's pain.

"Is Sherlock... I mean, has he..." John fumbled for words. "His brother said... Well, I was under the impression he'd never... you know." He made a vaguely rude hand gesture as he stammered.

Mike shrugged. "Don't really know for sure. But, his ex is a looker and I'd be surprised if nothing happened there."

"Ex?" John squeaked.

"Victor." Mike confirmed. "They met when his dog attacked him. Sherlock said something unfortunate to Victor's father and apparently the man was so appalled he left the country to avoid seeing Sherlock."

John thought he might faint.

 _"If you'll be needing two bedrooms." "I'm not his date!"_ And then Sarah... Of course Sherlock knew what a date was! Sherlock was asking him out!

"Ohhh..." John moaned. "I'm such an _idiot_!"

Mike's mouth twisted like he agreed but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

\----

It was raining and John was pretty sure he couldn't walk in a straight line and that taxi driver ripped him off but at the moment he didn't care. He tried to get the key but it slipped around, leaving gouges that proved he wasn't sober enough to do this. John ignored that and rang the door bell. When there was no response he pounded on the door.

Mrs. Hudson answered. "John? What on earth?"

"Is Sherlock in?" He asked but it came out slurred, "Ish Sssherlie in?"

The landlady frowned and opened the door to let him in. Once she shut the door she asked quietly, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

John blinked owlishly. "Hm?"

"I'm not an idiot John Watson. If you do this, it's not something you can take back. If you hurt Sherlock with this you'll answer to me."

He snorted. Then he realized that was a bit not good.

"You can't have just one night. A drunken confession, a realization because it's New Year's Eve and you can't stand the idea of getting one year older. Just wanting this because you're scared..." She trailed off.

"I'm not just making this major change because it's New Year's Eve; that's a total coincidence." John tried to say. He was drowsy in the warmth of the foyer after being in the freezing winter downpour. Sibilant mush came out instead of words.

Mrs. Hudson seemed to understand what he meant. "John, dear, you can't wipe the slate clean tomorrow. That's not how _this_ works."

John looked her in the eye and nodded. Then he started up the stairs.

She sighed and shook her head but didn't follow.

"John? What on earth are you doing here at two am?" Sherlock asked before he'd even entered the flat.

"Sherlock..." John swallowed. He sobered up so fast seeing the detective leaning against the table, his cane in his hand. Suddenly he wondered if he had the courage to do this.

"Obvious." Sherlock muttered and guided the drunken man into his chair before he fell over. "You couldn't go home and see Mary this drunk so you came here to sleep it off. Did you remember text her so she doesn't worry?"

John resisted Sherlock's attempts to make him sit in his chair and Sherlock couldn't manoeuvre him properly and stay upright himself. His limp was _not_ psychosomatic. John realized he didn't even know how he'd been injured. It was probably a case, dangerous. He didn't invite John along on those ones anymore.

He didn't invite John on _any_ cases anymore.

"Why didn't you respond to my text?" He demanded.

Had Sherlock found someone to replace him? He knew Molly worked cases with him but she had a full time job. Was it that drug addict Billy? Maybe this was a bad idea, he mused. Maybe Sherlock didn't-

Sherlock cut the thought off. "I made a mistake."

John's face twisted in both confusion and horror. He had been replaced then. But...?

"I made my commitment to Rosie too obvious. Moriarty still has agents out there. She's a target." Sherlock gave up on trying on forcing John to sit. He took a step back and removed his hand from John's person.

John didn't even realize Sherlock had been holding him. The shorter man felt cold without the contact.

Alone.

Abandoned.

He took a deep breath to calm himself before he worked himself into a panic. John stared into sharp almond eyes, wide with panic, begging for forgiveness and slightly afraid of his temper. John was always a little more violent whenever he'd been drinking.

'Oh, God!' John moaned mentally. Sherlock was afraid of him. John had taken his rage out on the furniture, the glassware and various other things. And his friend. His _best_ friend.

The only person who saw John as he was, forgave all his horrible attributes, understood him. Who returned to him. Suddenly Sherlock's response at the press conference John had scheduled during his engagement party made sense. _"I heard you."_ Sherlock hadn't been saying, "Yes, I know you asked me not to be dead and I left you anyway to go on a grand adventure." he was saying, "I heard you ask me not to be dead and I made sure I didn't die so I could return."

John had never loved anyone like he loved Sherlock.

And Sherlock was afraid John was going to punch him for loving his daughter.

John choked on a sob.

"Oh, god. Sherlock..." He ducked his head as tears escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

"John?! What?! What did I...? I'm sorry!" Sherlock panicked.

John shook his head. "No, no..." He tried to raise his head but chickened out half way though. He couldn't watch Sherlock flail and feel like he had done something wrong. He took two steps forward and wrapped his arms around the lanky man. "I'm sorry. I'm _sorry._ God, Sherlock... I'm so sorry." John buried his head in Sherlock's shoulder.

If Sherlock noticed how damp his clothing became he didn't mention it. He just dropped his cane and wrapped his arms around John. Tentatively at first, unsure how to comfort anyone physically. Then, when John didn't shove him off, he tightened his grip and rested his cheek on John's head. "John..." He whispered.

When John had calmed himself down he discreetly tried to wipe his nose on his sleeve. "Sherlock, I have something I need to say..." He winced, remembering words Sherlock had said. _"John, there’s something ... I should say; I-I’ve meant to say always and then never have._ _"_ John choked and had to dab at his eyes.

 

"John?"

 

John gathered his courage. He was suddenly positive. He knew the only thing he would regret about this night was that he had waited so long. That he had to get drunk, that a friend had to point out his idiocy and that he was crying with the force of his regrets and repressed emotions.

He held Sherlock's arms and took a step back. "Sherlock..."

"John-" Sherlock was looking over John's shoulder.

"No! Stop and listen." He commanded and Sherlock's mouth snapped shut. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes..." He took a deep breath and waited until Sherlock's eyes met his. "I love you."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "That's..." his eyes flicked back over John's shoulder.

John heard a click he recognized as a gun's safety flicking off.

"That's... problematic..." Sherlock finished before flinging John into his chair. The brunette lost his balance in the process and fell over, knocking his head against John's knee.

John winced at the pain and the sound of a gun firing. He could see the bullet hit Sherlock's chair. He turned to the sound and saw Mary.

Mary hadn't expected Sherlock to fall when he pushed John.

Mary had tried to shoot Sherlock, _again_.

John remembered Mary's face at the hospital when he told her that Sherlock had pulled through. How surprised she looked. John also remembered how Shan told him that assassins only didn't hit their targets when they didn't want to miss. He remembered how Sherlock had flat lined on the operating table. The doctor had horrible nightmares about the surgeon removing his gloves and turning to the clock to call time of death. Mary could have shot Sherlock in the head. Could have made sure that Sherlock wouldn't ever come back.

Suddenly John realized why she didn't.

Molly had told John that Sherlock had identified Irene Adler from _"not her face."_

And John knew that he would ID the body this time. He would have to know. He would have to know beyond a doubt that Sherlock was actually dead this time.

And he couldn't do that from _"not his face."_

"I don't have to kill you, John." Mary said. "But, I do have to kill him."

Sherlock was staggering on the floor, he was disoriented and his leg was clearly causing him pain.

Mary was moving toward them. She was pointed John's pistol at the struggling figure but she didn't have a clear shot yet, the side table was blocking it.

There was no way in hell John was going to let it end like this. No, Sherlock would not die _again_. Not on John's watch.

John stood up and glared at her. He kept his body between the two people he loved. "Mary. You know I love you. You _know_ that. But..." He widened his stance and clenched his fists. He glared at her. "I won't let you try to kill him again." The next part came out more growl than words. "Never again. If you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me."

Her mouth twisted. "Of course, this is what it comes down to, isn't it? John Watson finally exits the closet." Mary aimed at his chest, "Well, you can't say I didn't try to make our marriage work. You were the problem this time." She taunted hatefully, "Poor me, marrying a gay man. No wonder you could only forgive _him_ and not me."

Sherlock growled loudly from behind John and the fire poker flew at her head.

The gun went off and John dived at her. He felt the bullet hit his arm but used the moment before the pain set in to wrestle the gun away from her grip. It went spinning over John's shoulder.

The two stopped struggling when the sound of the action clicked. Sherlock was keeling but he had the gun pointed at Mary's head.

John rolled to the side and the pain made itself known. He wrapped his right hand around the wound, ignoring the fresh wave of pain in order to prevent blood loss. There was the sound of breaking glass and John saw Mary's body jerk.

Sherlock flung himself over John and aimed out the window. He fired John's gun twice before John gave in and lost consciousness.

\----

John woke up once when the paramedics were loading him into an ambulance. They were trying to pry John's hand out of Sherlock's. John struggled and ripped the oxygen mask off to tell them that he _couldn't_ be separated from Sherlock. Not now. Not when Sherlock was making such desperate cries. All he managed was "Sherl..." He flung his arm at the nearest interloper before it was restrained. "Sherl!" He whimpered before the mask was replaced and John honestly wasn't sure how he felt the needle carrying the sedative pierce his leg, but he did. "Sherrr..." He sobbed before his body went limp and he couldn't hold on to the one person who mattered anymore.

\----

The next time John surfaced it was due to the sounds of a baby's cries. Rosamund. John felt guilty for forgetting about her. And for realizing that Sherlock mattered more than she did. It was horrible. Despicable. He suddenly hoped she was someone else's child because she deserved so much better than having him as a father.

"Shhhh... Shhhhh... It's ok. There, you see? Daddy's waking up. It'll all be ok." A deep voice was rumbling.

John wondered if Sherlock was reassuring himself more than the baby.

"Sherl...?"

Suddenly his right hand was enveloped in warmth. "John. It's ok. It'll all be ok. Ok?"

John nodded. If Sherlock said so it must be true. John would actually listen from now on. Sherlock was still talking but he couldn't focus on the words; the baritone was soothing and John went back to sleep.

\----

John was finally awake more often than he was asleep. The doctors were cutting back on the morphine and John was the stereotypical difficult doctor as a patient. But, he wasn't as difficult as Sherlock was to the staff so they forgave him.

Sherlock actually hissed like an angry cat at one of the female nurses who got a bit too friendly and it made John laugh so hard he nearly pulled his stitches.

"God, I love you so much." John muttered at his jealous consulting detective.

John was expecting Sherlock to say it back this time but Sherlock just winced and burped Rosamund. Then he escaped to the loo to clean up.

Harry came to visit. She was on another bender, demanding to know why no one notified her that John had been shot, _again_. "The press has been horrible, John! The things they're saying... They've been bothering me because no one will say anything. The police haven't made a statement. I mean, I wouldn't blame you-"

"Yes, well, nice to see you, Harry." Sherlock interrupted.

"What?" John asked a sinking feeling in his chest.

"Your wife!" Harry screeched. "You didn't _actually_ kill her, did you?" She sniffed haughtily and swayed, "Not for _him._ " She pointed accusingly at Sherlock.

"Not now, Harry!" Sherlock cuddled Rosamund to his chest and bounced her to offset her reaction to the noise.

Oh, god. He'd forgotten all about Mary. "What? ... Sherlock?" John couldn't even articulate the question.

Sherlock glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but avoided maintaining eye contact.

Harry glared at her brother.

"I... I..." John stammered. He didn't really remember what happened. He knew he didn't kill her and he was fairly certain Sherlock didn't either. But, there was no one else there, was there?

"God. I knew you hated women but this takes it to new heights." Harry scowled. "At least tell me you finally gave up this whole heterosexual gimmick and finally came out of the closet."

"Harry!" Sherlock snapped.

"Oh, well. Good." She sneered at the tall dark haired man. "Don't expect it to last, he dumped the last one and crawled back in at the first sign of trouble."

"Harriet!" John growled.

"Yeah, he hides behind the term bisexual. As if there really is such a thing. It's just because he's scared to say he likes cock. Scared to be like his fuck-up faggot sibling. Always the perfect little angel."

 _"Harry!"_ John gasped.

"Interesting theory. Funny how the stupid ones never can see beyond their own predilections." Mycroft sneered, somehow having entered without making a sound.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Harry turned on him.

Sherlock relaxed. "Oh, good. Finally decided to be useful, have you? Do us one more favour and get rid of this one."

" _Get rid of?!_ "

John knew that Mycroft could if he were so inclined. "Harry, for the love of god, shut up. Do something smart for once in your life and don't antagonize him."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" John couldn't tell which one of them she was asking as it was relevant to all of them.

"Oi! How'd you all get in here? No one's supposed to talk to him until he's given his statement!" Lestrade came into the very claustrophobic private room. "I only allowed Sherlock because of John's daughter."

"There's no need, officer. You'll find all the statements completed and on your desk." Mycroft smiled at the silver haired man.

The blond shuddered at the predatory look in Mycroft's eye.

Molly bullied her way in, "Sherlock, you said you needed Rosie's bottle heated? I have it here..." She brushed her hand through her hair and looked at Sherlock from under her lashes.

"Oh, my god! Enough of this ridiculousness! He's obviously gay! He's stringing you along for favours." Harry spat.

"W-w-what?" Molly blushed.

John buried his face in his moveable hand.

"Yeah, those two probably think it's some great joke. Misogynistic pricks." She swayed. "Now, if you want someone who will treat you right..." Harry leered at the pathologist.

Molly looked around the room. "It's true. You all knew, didn't you?" She stamped her foot. "Probably were laughing at me! Well, you can all... just... piss off!" She fled.

John realized he was a complete arse. He'd thought Sherlock asexual, maybe into Irene Adler... He didn't really believe all the stories about Janine... But he _knew_ Sherlock wasn't remotely interested in Molly. He was supposed to be the good guy, the saint. Looking around the room he realized he was probably the worst person there. Even when he included Mycroft.

"Well, that was fun." Harry laughed.

 _"FUN?!"_ Lestrade growled. "You threw her under the bus for _fun?!_ " He walked up to Harry and looked her in the eye. "We tried to break it to her gently but even though we failed not telling her was nicer than what you did!"

Harry refused to cower. "Please, women like that are boring in their teenage years and pathetic in their thirties. She just promotes a stupid stereotype. She'll thank me later." Harry raised her eyebrow. "Maybe even see the light and come to play for the right team."

"Amusing, a misandrist lesbian complaining about stereotypes. Let me guess, a vegetarian too?" Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Harry. He turned to John, "It's no wonder it's taken you so long to come out to my brother; if this was your role-model."

"I'm in Hell." John murmured. "Mary shot me, I died and I'm in Hell."

"No," Harry scoffed, "John's the vegetarian."

"She's the pescetarian. You're slipping brother mine." Sherlock crowed, preening in his victory.

"Of course." The official sneered, "I'll be sure to update the notes for rehab."

Harry started screeching incoherently and spilled her heavily Irish-ed coffee.

John's agitation caused the monitors to go off and his doctor kicked everyone out. Said doctor raised his morphine drip level despite John's protests and he succumbed to medicated sleep.

\----

When John came back Sherlock was sitting by his bed, petting the shorter man's hand.

"Hey." John croaked.

Sherlock retrieved some ice chips. He had a badly swollen black eye.

"Molly?" John guessed.

"Mm." Sherlock agreed. "Not for lack of trying on your sister's part."

John frowned. "I was hoping that was a nightmare."

"Well, Lestrade's comforting Molly now. So it all worked out." Sherlock forced some more ice chips into John's mouth.

John crunched them and swallowed. "Not for Mycroft." He tried to move and winced at the pain in his arm.

Sherlock's hands fluttered gracelessly. "Are you in too much pain? I turned it down; I didn't want you to get addicted. That was probably a bit not good, but you didn't want it turned up-"

John interrupted his rambling. "No, it's fine. Thank you."

There was an awkward silence neither seemed to want to break.

Sherlock gave first, "I'm sorry about Mary."

John swallowed. "Did you...?" He couldn't finish the question.

Sherlock looked like he'd been slapped. "No! No, of course not. No. I couldn't do that to you! I know you loved her. That... That was all that was important."

John looked away. "I loved someone who didn't exist."

Neither said anything further. The ice shifted in the container, bringing attention to the silence.

"Here's the official report. It's mostly true." Sherlock handed John a folder.

"Did you at least get her killer?" John asked after he finished reading. He stared at the door, never once looking at his friend after he finished it.

He heard Sherlock shifting in his seat. "I'm not... I'm not a crack shot." He waited but John didn't say anything. "I'm sorry. I hit him, but he got away."

"Do we know who it was? And who sent them?" John asked, looking at the paper. There was something familiar...

Sherlock didn't answer and John looked up to see his friend in his mind palace.

 _"Oh!"_ Sherlock took out his phone and started texting furiously. "Obvious! Stupid, stupid!" He muttered as his fingers flew over the screen.

Well, fuck. That wasn't good.

\----

\---

\----

*Ping, ping, ping*

Mycroft hurried to silence his phone before it gave away his position. He knew Sherlock had figured it out. That was good, the damage would be limited. As limited as it could be, considering.

"I know you're there, Mycroft." She called. "You can't hide from me. I know _everything_."

Mycroft hit the panic button on his phone. It would announce that he was compromised to all his contacts and that anyone in his association should be black listed. He sent a quick text afterwards containing only his assistant's file.

*Ping.* The Blackberry's notice came from his right and he put Rosamund on his left hip and tried for the hidden passage behind the tapestry. *Ping.*

There was a short pause after the sounds. Just long enough for her to read the notices. "Blacklisting me? Amusing when you don't even know my real name."

A shot above his left shoulder caused Rosamund to cry out; he shielded her with his body. "Of course I know your real name, Moran. I actually found it fitting, considering its meaning. More so now though, I think."

"Yes, Irish for Viburnum shrub. The plant found with Ötzi the Iceman. Funny, he had an asymptomatic parasite too." Anthea came out of the shadows, her gun slightly lower than optimal.

"I had thought you were an interesting find. Retired sniper for her majesty's army. I can see now you worked with Moriarty, common ancestor?" Mycroft stalled, keeping his body between the threat and the child. Sherlock would never forgive him if she died in his care too. Mycroft quickly buried all thoughts of their older sister.

She bared her teeth. "No, unfortunately."

"Ah, _sentiment_. Boring." Mycroft taunted, hoping to throw her off balance. "You were in love with him. Moriarty was incapable of returning the affection though, wasn't he?"

"Wrong again. You're allowing your sentiment to cloud your judgment."

Mycroft looked his assistant up and down. It was clear she was in love with someone, someone related to Moriarty, someone... He ran through all her interactions. If it wasn't Moriarty and Moriarty was obsessed with Sherlock, and it clearly wasn't Sherlock or himself. "John."

"You're quite slow, for the supposed smarter brother. John discovered Moriarty's weapon sales in Afghanistan so I was told to take him out. But, he was... different. Interesting. You've seen it too. I can tell you find him, _appealing_. When I didn't kill him Moriarty punished me by putting him in Sherlock's path. Those two really are made for one another." Her eyes tightened at the last statement. "When no one could confirm Moriarty's death I couldn't make a move. You sent Mary to keep John sane until your brother finished his part of the task. So sad there were so many delays and the idiot actually fell in love with her. Tragic, how it all ended."

"You're bleeding out." Mycroft cursed his stupidity as soon as the words were out. He didn't want to rush her traditional villain monologue. Not that anyone could save him in time. But the child still had a chance.

"It wasn't hard to convince Mary to go back to her profession. But she _liked_ Sherlock. Found him amusing. Plus the idiot genius was a good distraction for her imbecilic husband so she could have a bit of excitement. She was _supposed_ to kill your brother." Anthea tisked. "Left it to chance that first time though. She knew what I was really after. Smart woman. Pity she couldn't finish the job."

Mycroft was inching to the vase. So close...

"All I need to do is change the DNA results so John believes Rosamund isn't his," She smirked, "If she even is. I don't know. She might not be. Mary always did have a weakness for blonds and I never found out if Moriarty included him when that madman experimented on John's regiment."

Mycroft held the wailing infant with one hand, reaching the other to the hidden weapon.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Moran shot his thigh. "None of that."

Mycroft tried to take the vase with him but prioritized Rosamund, shifting her so she fell safely between him and the pedestal. He wanted to tell Moran she was insane if she thought John would ever choose her now. Not after the man finally admitted his love for Sherlock.

She seemed to read his thoughts on his face. Anthea was cleverer than he gave her credit for. "Yes, but John is a halfwit. And once the baby is dead, proven afterwards that she was never his to begin with and Sherlock falls prey to his vices, an overdose from guilt at not being able to protect the spawn without ever saying he loved John back; John will fall back to his womanizing ways and this time he'll find someone who can _excite_ him properly."

"All I need to do is get rid of you." Moran raised her weapon, even with the waver caused by her hypovolemia the range was too close for her to miss.

Two shots rang out and Mycroft flinched around Rosamund. He prayed his body was enough of a shield to stop the bullet from reaching her.

"I always said you were an idiot Mycroft Holmes."

He blinked and watched as Mrs. Hudson set a revolver aside and put pressure on his wound.

"Don't die now, for heaven sakes! If your brother can manage to survive being shot in the chest you can pull through from a simple leg wound."

Mycroft blinked. The next time he opened his eyes there were more people.

He watched Mrs. Hudson pick up Rosamund with bloodied hands and direct the paramedics. Somehow acting like a helpless old woman but simultaneously maintaining total control of the situation.

Mycroft realized he underestimated her too. His pondered if he really was the idiot of the family as he was pulled into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt #146 Link](http://ourwritingprompts.tumblr.com/post/152339872382/writing-prompt-146) "I love you." "That's... problematic..."  
> [Prompt #16 Link](http://roquentine19.tumblr.com/post/153761991438/welcome-to-our-seasonal-fucking-cheer-2016) I'm not just making this major change because it's New Year's Eve; that's a total coincidence.  
> [Interesting links and facts on my Tumblr](http://theartone.tumblr.com/post/156085763006/end-the-year-with-a-bang-gizmotrinket221)  
>  If you see any typos (and I know you did because I'm terrible at editing) please point them out below and I'll fix them eventually.


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